


Smooth Moves

by Avatar_KiyoshiTeppei, Red252



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Crack, Gen, slight Midorima/Takao and Midorima/Shutoku
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avatar_KiyoshiTeppei/pseuds/Avatar_KiyoshiTeppei, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red252/pseuds/Red252
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Midorima Shintarou gets a crash course in personal grooming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smooth Moves

**Author's Note:**

> We were talking one day about how almost no fanart has the MiraGen with body hair--which led to a discussion on just who _would_ remove it...

Practice drills had never gone better for Takao Kazunari. For the first time, Takao felt like he could defend against Shin-chan’s movements. No, that wasn’t exactly right. For the first time, Takao felt like he could _predict_ Shin-chan’s movements. Could it be that Takao was finally catching up? Or was it the obvious irritation on his face that was telegraphing Shin-chan’s thoughts?

But then, Shin-chan _dropped_ the ball in the middle of the drill. And he was moving even more cautiously than usual.

Now that he thought about it, Shin-chan had even _lost_ one of the games of Janken this morning in their best-of-three…

That did it—something was definitely wrong with Shin-chan.

On Shin-chan’s second run through the drill, Takao avoided falling for his feint to the left and stayed on him, running along the outside to prevent him from passing to Ōtsubo on the inside. They were supposed to find an opening in the defense and make an inside play; Shin-chan was the only one of them who hadn’t completed the drill yet.

“Midorima – come here.” Coach must have gotten fed up, or else figured out what Takao hadn’t. Shin-chan let his shoulders and head drop a bit, and when he turned away, he bent down to scratch at his ankle. There were long swathes of red, inflamed skin on his legs.

“What the heck is up with him?” Miyaji grumbled as he came up to begin the drill. “Did he have a shitty fortune today?” 

“No…Shin-chan was ranked third…” Takao responded. Miyaji shrugged and began the drill, dribbling close to Takao’s foot – but at the last second Miyaji snatched the ball back up and hurled it to Ōtsubo, who caught it for a layup.

“Nice, Miyaji!” Ōtsubo nodded. “Switch!”

They all took a turn at each position twice before they paused to look at the bench. Neither Coach nor Shin-chan had returned. 

Ōtsubo pointed at Takao. “Go check on Coach and Midorima. The rest of you, start shooting practice!”

Takao grinned and jogged off, wiping his hair out of his eyes. He headed down the hall outside the gym, but they weren’t in the coach’s office. He jogged a little further down, but they weren’t in the locker room either. They couldn’t have left, could they? But where else…

Takao stopped at the end of the hall when he heard a baritone yelp from around the corner.

“That stings, nanodayo!”

There he was! But Shin-chan’s voice came from the nurse’s office. He _had_ been hiding something…

Takao knocked on the opaque window to the office and was met with Coach Nakatani’s head peering out from behind the doorframe.

“Oh, Takao. Come in; I’m glad it’s you.”

The door opened fully to reveal Midorima scratching his arms furiously as the nurse tried to balance swatting his hands away and rubbing cream onto his legs. 

“What? Why is Takao here?” Shin-chan accused both Coach and Takao with a glare.

“It seems he’s checking on you, Midorima-kun.” Coach never seemed affected by Shin-chan’s outbursts.

“Yeah, Shin-chan’s been gone almost a half hour! How are we supposed to get anything done without our ace?” Takao said as he flopped on the chair next to the nurse.

“Hmph.” Shin-chan tried to cross his arms, but the stern effect was lost when the nurse yanked out his left wrist to apply whatever ointment she had been using on his legs.

“Aaaaand we were worried about you, eh? Well, I was worried, at least. I think Miyaji-san was just angry. What’s taking so long?”

Shin-chan puffed up his chest despite the nurse’s wrangling, and said, “Nothing is wrong– there were some…unforeseen consequences from my new hygiene routine.” Shin-chan blushed, but did not falter. It was then that Takao noticed that Shin-chan didn’t have any hair on his arms. Itchy, hairless arms…?

“Shin-chan, where’s your hair?”

Shin-chan stiffened and stopped scratching. He adjusted his glasses.

“Well. It’s gone.”

“…Gone? Eh?” 

“Yes.” 

“Gone?!?”

“Yes, idiot, gone!” Takao felt bubbles of laughter begin to dance in his stomach.

“But…gone…hehe…where?”

Shin-chan heaved an exasperated sigh, and touched his glasses again.

“I have begun waxing my arms and legs.”

The way he said it, as if discussing the importance of proper form and posture when shooting a jump shot, was too much. Takao thanked the universe for introducing him to Shin-chan, and held his stomach as he doubled over in open mirth.

“It is a simple method to further improve my aerodynamism, nanodayo.”

“AERODYNAMISM? HaaahAHHH!” Takao could only look at him for a second before his eyes snapped shut with the force of his giggles. He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.

Irritated and frustrated, Shin-chan added, “It is a common practice among high-level athletes! With less resistance, my shots will be faster and less taxing!”

“Ahaha, Shin—hahaha—Shiiiin-chan that is—ahehe—really, very…insightful of…pffffffufufu…wait, is that any different than aerodynamics?” 

“TAKAO. This is for the good of the team. This is what it means to do everything humanly possible!”

Coach put a hand on Takao’s shoulder. “Takao, when you’ve gathered yourself, please tell Ōtsubo and the others that Midorima will not be joining us for the rest of practice. Ōtsubo can direct practice if he wants; otherwise, I have some plans sitting on the bench.”

“Yes, sir! Wait…we don’t _all_ have to wax our legs now for the team, right?”

Coach Nakatani leveled a stony glare at Takao.

“Right, right! …I’ll just leave now!”

Takao turned on his heel to leave the nurse’s office, but couldn’t resist adding, “Ehh, Shin-chan, don’t worry, I’ll pedal the rickshaw tonight so you don’t scratch your silky legs!” Then he scampered before Shin-chan or Coach decided to hit him.

___

Kise Ryōta had seen many strange and unexpected people at beauty parlors and bodycare shops in his life—so he had learned not to assume that certain people wouldn’t care about their beauty regimen.

However, when he saw a tall, green-haired boy looking lost in the moisturizer section, Ryōta realized he still had some mental blocks to push aside.

“Midorimacchi?” he whispered as he drew up next to him. Midorimacchi stiffened, and looked at him through Wayfarer sunglasses with yellow mirrored lenses.

“Kise?! How did you know it was me?” he hissed, his fingers tight on a horse’s curry comb. Ryōta glanced at the lucky item and turned his eyes back to Midorimacchi’s, adding a pleasant smile to soften the situation.

“Umm…I read the horoscopes this morning and knew your lucky item?”

This seemed to placate Midorimacchi. “I see. Well.” He looked around and seemed to be thinking. He opened his mouth to take a breath, and said, “I haven’t found a present for my mother nanodayo.”

Ryōta didn’t think it was much of an accomplishment that he could tell Midorimacchi was lying. “Uh-huh, and what does she need moisturizer for?”

Midorimacchi blinked and adjusted his glasses. “She…has begun waxing her legs and arms. For personal hygiene nanodayo.”

Kise bit the inside of his lip. “Really?”

“Yes. But it has proven to be quite irritating for my—” Midorimacchi stopped, blushing. He glared at Ryōta. Ryōta realized this was the make-or-break moment of this conversation, and smiled.

“Do you know, I have the perfect salon for her to visit. They’re friendly, expert, and _very, very_ discreet. I rely on them for _my_ waxing, and they never tell anyone who I am!” He laughed. “It’s refreshing; sometimes I have to beat back my admirers because some fool decided to tell their friends about an appointment I made at their place.”

“Is that so.” Midorimacchi was not happy, but he wasn’t running away either. Kise patted his shoulder.

“Come on, let’s go buy your mom a gift certificate. My treat!”

___

Takao was doing his damned best not to touch Shin-chan’s legs as they all changed in the locker room, but they just looked so _smooth!_ Where normally there was curled, green hair, a shine glimmered, as if Shin-chan were some precious metal…Takao watched as Shin-chan untied his other shoe, admiring the long fingers that tugged an ankle sock off a gleaming, smooth ankle…

“Ahem.” Shin-chan cleared his throat, and Takao realized Shin-chan had noticed his gaze. He was glaring at Takao.

“Oh, Shin-chan! I was just admiring your physique!” Takao patted his leg, and then gasped. It was even smoother and softer than it looked – as if he had just pet a velvet pillow.

“Hey, lovebirds, save it for later.” Kimura grumbled. Takao waited for Miyaji to jump in, but the team member in question was leaning over to look at Shin-chan’s legs as well.

“Holy shit,” Miyaji said, standing up. “Holy fucking shit.”

“What?” Kimura stopped what he was doing to turn and look at Miyaji.

“There’s nothing to see nanodayo.” Shin-chan stood up abruptly, but Miyaji pushed him down again.

“Oh, yeah?” Miyaji grinned, and pointed down towards Shin-chan’s shins.

“Holy shit!” Kimura yelped, kneeling next to Miyaji to join in staring at Shin-chan’s knees.

“What. The fuck. Midorima.” Miyaji said.

“It lessens air resis—”

“Did you do your _arms_ too?” Kimura tilted his head sideways. 

“He sure did, senpai!!” Takao had managed to perch himself between the two upperclassmen’s shoulders. A light came on in Takao’s eyes. As he looked back and forth between Kimura and Miyaji, a giant grin spread across his face. “You wanna feel ‘em?” Takao waggled his eyebrows.

“This is completely unnecessary nanodayo,” Shin-chan muttered, and began obviously scooting towards the opposite side of the bench. “Idiots. I need to get home to study.” Shin-chan had begun piling up his things haphazardly. His shirt was on backwards, and he was missing a sock. 

“Get your ass back here, freshman!” Miyaji said. Shin-chan froze.

“Absolutely not.” Shin-chan barked. But he did stop moving for the door.

“Oh no, Midorima. Sit down. You’re fresh out of selfish requests, and this is an order from your senpai.”

Shin-chan’s eyes narrowed, then darted nervously. “This cannot possibly count as a selfish request. How is this a selfish request?” 

Takao felt a guffaw coming on.

Miyaji covered his jaw with his hand and looked pensively at Kimura before replying, “I think it’s pretty selfish to keep this, ah…new…technique of yours to yourself, don’t you?”

Kimura nodded sagely. “Especially if it’s for, you know…air resistance, and all.” Takao clapped a hand over his mouth. He could have sworn he saw Kimura’s mouth twitch. 

Miyaji put his hands on his hips. “That’s right, kid. It’s for the good of the team. You didn’t miss a spot, did you?” 

Shin-chan looked at the door longingly; then he closed his eyes and slowly lowered himself onto the bench closest to the door.

“If you must.” Shin-chan glared at the air in front of him. His jaw was set so tight his lips had almost thinned to nothing. He had the look of a man about to eat his last meal. Takao couldn’t help but start giggling.

“Oh fuck, they’re smoother than a baby!” Miyaji yelled. Shin-chan’s face turned entirely red, and he made to stand up again, but a look from Miyaji made him shudder in place instead. “You try, Takao. I know you want another go.”

“Aw, you guys are the best, senpai!” Takao pumped his fists and knelt down to run his hand down Shin-chan’s thigh. 

Miyaji had begun to lengthen his strokes, dragging his fingertips all the way from Shin-chan’s ankle, to the back of his knee. His mouth was open slightly, and his face knit in a light frown, as if in disbelief. 

Kimura had taken a shin, giving it short pets along the middle. The line of this mouth kept twitching into a smirk, and so help him, if Kimura didn’t stop, Takao wasn’t going to be able to hold in his laughter any longer.

Miyaji was the first to break the silence. “You know, freshman. I _do_ think your shots were especially good today. Don’t you, Kimura?” 

“Much…smoother, yes.”

“ _So_ smooth!” Takao chirped.

None of them stopped their ministrations.

“It must be because you didn’t miss _anything_ , Shin-chan. Right, senpai?” Takao said, as he reached over to grab at Shin-chan’s other leg. “See? No air resistance here!” He grinned until his eyes almost shut.

Poor Shin-chan had forgone gripping the bench to clutch at his lucky item with both hands. His back was stick-straight, and his eyes were darting among the three team members before him.

“Yes. Well.” He pushed at his glasses. “Obviously, it worked. I did everything humanly possible, nanodayo.”

“Indeed.” Kimura said as he met Takao’s grin. “Not one spot missed. Very thorough.”

“If only you mopped the floor as well as you shaved your fucking legs, freshman.”

Shin-chan’s shoulders started to relax, until Miyaji piped back, “ _God_ , how the hell _did_ you get them so good, anyway? I bet they’re smoother than Ōtsubo’s sister’s!”

“Hey.” Ōtsubo walked in from the showers. They all froze.

“You talk about my sister like that one more time, and I’ll clobber _you_ with a pineapple, got me?”

Miyaji nodded, and Takao nodded along for good measure. During this pause, Midorima had begun to, well… _lean_ towards the door, anticipating a timely rescue from the captain.

“Hey.” Ōtsubo said again. Midorima froze.

“Don’t have too much fun with Midorima. We’ve got a practice game tomorrow, and he needs his sleep.” Takao thanked the universe again, but this time for its help in making him pick Shutoku for high school.

“Will do, Captain!” 

“Got it, Captain.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“…what?! C-captain!!”

Ōtsubo nodded approvingly. “But first, I get a feel…”


End file.
